Tangled Up
by gardenofdeadroses
Summary: Because you're all just a rotten mess. / Beck/Robbie/Jade. / This is my first one, so please be nice.


**Disclaimer: Own nothing.**

* * *

><p>Hands clasped under the lunch table; <em>He<em> has his arms around her waist-

He's my _boyfriend_, what did you expect? (Her words burn your brain like acid, but you don't-

Stop starring; her well-manicured fingernails digging through your skin).

Her mouth ,lipsteethtongue, you certainly remember the trails she-

leaves

clickclickclickclickclick

She would look amazing in _nothing_ but those heels, You say. No _**one**_ moves. Yeah, maybe you just thought it, but she turns around, isn't she inviting?

;

Blueberries and coffee (it's carved in your tongue just like a _freaking_ tattoo-

She has two, and you are one of the few who had the _pleasurepleasurepleasure_**ple-**

**as** roll out of her tongue) she arches her back, _oh_ her _softmilkyflawless_ legs wrapped around your waist (_waste of time_, She says when you ask her why she doesn't talk to you afterwards, I have a _life_ you know?)

You knew, she knew, _he_ knew-

Could she have to-_no__**fucking**__way_-ld him?

Was it the (sex) smell of (youonher/heronyou)?

;

She never texted you:

come over to the rv, And you _dumbinnocenthopeful_ go.

They are all over you _gentlerough/softhard/whitetanned/bigsmall_

hands, smirks, legs, feet, hips, bites, tongues, _eyes_ so _**penetrating**_, so blue (dark) blue (dark), like the sky (infinite), and you _run_.

;

He comes over at you the next day, it goes something (_exactly_) like this:

You should (_will_) come over to (_play_) hang,

and you wonder when he started to sound so (_threateningscarysarcastic_) much like her.

I-I don't wan… can't, need to help my, um, my mother with… stuff (you know he can see through you-

are nothing compared to him, the coolhotpopular one).

Stuttering, lies, sweaty palms, your glasses slid down your nose, you don't look at him while he fixes them, _shiver_, raised eyebrow…

Okay, right (_the door will be open_).

He walks; You sigh;

;

She winks; He smiles; You look away, What's wrong (do they really want to know)?

She snorts; He laughs; You whimper, Seriously, what's going on (they don't need to know do they)?

She rolls her eyes; He takes her hand; Both walk away (_you know what to do_); You hit your head (hard) on the table,

You're bleeding (that's the understatement of the century);

You walk away.

;

_blackredblue_, _whiteblackbrown_, _brownpurplegrey_, _blackblackblack_ (finally an agreement).

_tableclassroomcouch_, _barparkcar_, _bedfloorbathroom_ (you end up on the beach, sand _**all**_

_**over**_, not that it bothered any of them)

It bothers you, though, doesn't it? (you thought it would last _forever_? just _forget_ it) (look, we had _fun_, but we _can't_, sorry)

;

_Fuck-_

_ed up_ (this is Hollywood baby, except it still isin't)

Life is too overrated, people who have high expectations always end up _d-de-dea-__**down**_, The smoke that comes off her mouth adds the special drama factor (You… you know you are the best, right?) But you know you will stutter; they will laugh and leave you again.

You stay with your mouth _shut_, until you open it:

-kisses, moans, laughs, snorts, snarls, bites, kisses-

and it feels like a _**fucking**_ cycle (in reality it is). And you love

_Us_, She purrs into your ear, red (bloody) lipstick staining your neck and clothes,

And then:

limbs tangled, hair sprawled everywhere, sweaty faces, shallow breathing, and you don't (want to) grow tired of this.

;

What _is_ this?, You were only thinking (too _loud_) and they answer you, voices mending in a _beautifulsickdisturbing_ melody:

_**Life**_

;

He reaches behind your back for her hand, and then they are touching you and each other again and the sun is setting and the sky is _ohsodarkandblue_ (the mixture make your insides twirl) and you realize it was never _**you**_, it was them and you hopefully tried to _squeeze_ yourself between, desperately wanting to be wanted, needed, taken care of…

But you _still_ love them, they _still_ ask you to come around after school and it feels so _natural_ (does it?) that you want to keep on doing this forever a long-

time, it starts to be less and less frequent (what did you expect?) they got bored of

_you_-

_r_ lunch table seem to always be on an awkward silence (are they _doing_ the others too? You know they never had manners, but you never imagined… well, you had never imagined any of _this_, but it happened nonetheless).

You try hard not to scream and you don't, because you know that you are just another _string puppet_ being played by their hands;

Oh the irony: _The master became the puppet._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I seriously don't know where this came from, but I quite like it... Hope you do too.**


End file.
